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Originally posted by fulvio:
An author that will keep you enthralled and burn the midnight oil would be Capstick.

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Originally posted by Jefffive:

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Originally posted by fulvio:
An author that will keep you enthralled and burn the midnight oil would be Capstick.

Shouldn't there be a long thread somewhere on here of all of Capstick's documented lies with the proof?

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Originally posted by Jefffive:

quote:

Originally posted by fulvio:
An author that will keep you enthralled and burn the midnight oil would be Capstick.

Shouldn't there be a long thread somewhere on here of all of Capstick's documented lies with the proof?

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Originally posted by BaxterB:

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Originally posted by Jefffive:

quote:

Originally posted by fulvio:
An author that will keep you enthralled and burn the midnight oil would be Capstick.

Shouldn't there be a long thread somewhere on here of all of Capstick's documented lies with the proof?

Yarns maybe, but the truth has been elusive.

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I'll wager he got several times as many hunters to Africa than anybody on AR has.

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Originally posted by Steve Ahrenberg:

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Originally posted by Jefffive:

quote:

Originally posted by fulvio:
An author that will keep you enthralled and burn the midnight oil would be Capstick.

Shouldn't there be a long thread somewhere on here of all of Capstick's documented lies with the proof?

Hahaha

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Originally posted by scruffy:
I have been reading Burger's book on hunting the cape buffalo.

I always believe anyone's hunting story until I catch them in a lie. Then I don't believe a single thing that they ever tell me, again. If I want fiction I can read a book that is written as such.

I am trying to explain how important hunting is to me.

Anyways ... In this particular chapter Burger talks of wounding a lion and tracking it to a bit of cover `where he expects to find the big cat.

He puts his gun down beside him to pick up a rock to toss into the cover to see if the cat is, in point of fact, still there. Might even be dead.

He hears a rustling sound and looks up to see the lion charging him. He then says that he did not have time to pick up the rifle beside him so he took off running for a tree 150 yards away.

Huh?

Not sure if I want to read any more of the book after that chapter.

(The lion was so badly wounded that it could not finish the charge and the author)

quote:

Originally posted by scruffy:

He hears a rustling sound and looks up to see the lion charging him. He then says that he did not have time to pick up the rifle beside him so he took off running for a tree 150 yards away.

Huh?

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Originally posted by lavaca:
Agree with Saed on the the inconsistencies in virtually any book. As well as the absolutely stupid things the author does. I'm guilty of it and I know better. Once, we were looking for a place to hang a leopard bait and I got out of the gari and left my rifle in the car. We bumped a pride of lion on a kill. Now didn't I look silly with no rifle.

I got interested in Africa long before Capstick's books. Roosevelt's African Game Trails did it for me when I was 8 years old, but Capstick's books fueled the fire. I never met him, but my wife did when he was in Houston at Abercrombie & Fitch (back when it was a real sporting goods store) and he autographed my copy of Death in the Long Grass. I've met his wife, Fiona, and she is a wonderful lady.

He may have embellished a bit. None of us could have possibly been guilty of that, could we? But he was a great writer and there's really no need to discuss an author's issues with alcohol.
As noted, many have had issues, but that didn't detract from their works.

My two cents.

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Originally posted by Fjold:

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Originally posted by scruffy:

He hears a rustling sound and looks up to see the lion charging him. He then says that he did not have time to pick up the rifle beside him so he took off running for a tree 150 yards away.

Huh?

He probably wrote it that away because that reads better than, "I shit my pants and took off running in fear."

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Originally posted by fairgame:
One of my last Lions decided to visit my camp in the early hours of the morning roaring and making a general disturbance. The hunter and I waited in the dining room for the first light as all my staff were securely locked up in their quarters when we decided to venture to the kitchen to make some coffee. My client was carrying a custom .470 double and whilst the kettle was boiling and in the dim light of a new morning the Lion walked into the kitchen and leaning over a pile of beer crates my client took his shot. Fuck the coffee and we opened up a bottle of fine Whiskey.



A bottle of finest Whiskey later we set him up for photographs on the plain from where he came.

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Originally posted by Black Fly:
I worked with a gentleman for nearly 15 years. We were together on the road, in the field, in the office and hunting and fishing. I was a nose to the grindstone type, he, a story teller and a laugher.
I often sat and listened in wonder to him regale folks with our adventures.
Over beers alone,one night, I commented to him that the story was not quite what I remembered. I remembered being wet, cold, tired and hungry. It wasnt any fun at all. With a twinkle in his eye, he shook his head, gave me pityful look and said,"Nobdy wants to hear that! That's not a good story."
I've come to like rembering his stories over my memories. Scientific journals make pretty boring reading and seldom inspire.
Bfly